Small Worlds
by Wolf With Morals
Summary: "You have to understand, when you get older you can't go off on some adventure. You settle in, you make tea, you take up knitting, you find a home, and you stay there. When you're my age, your world will become very small." The village time forgot. No era. No definition. Edges of the world fading…and she's at the middle of it all.


"I don't wanna go." Thing was, as well he knew, regenerations really don't care of you feel it's your time or not. He sensed a horribly familiar burning beginning in his very hearts and forcing its way through to his fingertips. It hurt, just like it always hurt. Funny, thing, that. Seemed like at some point, the Time Lord's would've figured out how to make this less painful.

He let out his last scream. Not that anyone was here to listen to his cries. He was alone in the TARDIS, for the first time in a very long time he was regenerating completely alone.

His head was snapped back, as his body freed the energy that was seeping through him like flaming honey. A sweetness, it was always somehow invigorating for just a moment, and then it hurt, it hurt as if he was ablaze all over.

An incredible blast of force tossed him to the ground, and sent him rolling across the floor. Curling into the smallest possible shape, he jerked with muscle spasms. Hot metal pressed against his hip, and seared his skin, yet, he could not find the strength to move.

_Oh no. Am I paralyzed? Wasn't that the last symptom? Can't…seem to remember._

_"…That is his reward for compassion…"_ A memory slipped through his muddled brain and he felt himself suppressing tears. When had he become so weak as to weep when a bit addled?

_Right then, more then a bit, I suppose. Have I gotten my reward?_

There was a definitive scent of burning. Seemed he'd be crashing right about now. He opened one eye, and tried to move his fingers. "All there? Ah, yes." He groaned, trying to catch his breath enough to form words. Words were good. They let him know he was thinking.

"A brain then. Set of vocal chords. A-ahhh!" A final twisting of his innards before he could finish his sentence. Curling up again, he held his side, where some organ was not properly functioning yet. "Ahhh-arms. Oh, good, I do enjoy those."

The sensation of crashing was getting stronger, and he hoped the TARDIS would find someplace nice. Really, _properly_ nice. Where he could just take a few minutes to recover before having to battle a monster or save a race from extinction_. Romana's always telling me I need a holi…Romana? Romana. No, she's in E-space. _

"You'd think she'd have left there by now." He muttered, finally loosening up enough to breathe a full lung of air. _Ah, and what smoke laden air it is._ Slowly, he tested his ability to shift his legs_. Not paralyzed then, must've taken a moment for everything to start working again._

A smile quirked his lips, that was a rhyme. _Am I fond of rhymes now? Or am I simply being daft?_

His legs were working, so, he hauled himself to his knees. Trying to steady his vision he blinked hard. The TARDIS was on fire, there was a horrible wheezing sound that emanated like a banshee's cry.

Shoving upwards yet again, he staggered to his feet. Moving with jerks and shudders, he reached the console, leaning heavily on it.

A terrible shake threw him to the floor again.

Laying with his head against the metal grating, he sighed. "I suppose that was it? All that build up about crashing… and that's all? Not to sound disappointed, but, I rather thought it would be more dramatic." Tired, he let his eyes drift closed. The TARDIS was still smoldering, but, he had no way to fix that now.

"I don't suppose…time has anything to do with it?" He whispered, trying to fend off the need for rest. He should be brimming with energy, ready to take on the universe.

_Miss Brown, wonder if she was alright? Of course she was, after she had her brain switched…Or did she turn into a bird? That's nonsense._ His eyes flashed open, trying to connect the information to faces at an incredible rate. Unfortunately, he kept jumbling them, which slowed him down and churned his stomach as he tried to make sense from them. _Melanie was the one who was a bird. No, she ate like a bird. Yes, that was it. Mel and her exercise bike. No, wrong again. The bike was a motorcycle. Ace was the one with the love for motorcycles. I rode one with her. No. No, not her. With…Grace. Yes! Grace, we met in the hospital basement! Rose. Rose was in the basement. Run! Yes, Rose was in the basement, and we ran…into Martha._ Now absolutely baffled, he winced, a hand rising to his head and toying with his hair. Long this time. He scowled, unpleased with this.

_ Martha Jones, she fancied me. Not my sort, love sick and all that. Donna was in love, but, she turned into a spider and her web destroyed London. Like Spectrox destroyed me. Wonder if Miss Brown is alright?_ A sensation of being spun about on a roller coaster while having the Degratto flu was something he'd never envisioned before, much less experienced.

Instead, he rolled to his side, and sniffed once. Closing his eyes again and waiting for some semblance of rest. "I might regenerate." His voice was soft, as if a secret being told, although only the TARDIS was able to hear.

He felt a weak thrum under his body. Coming from deep within his ship. If he didn't know better, he'd have to say, this turn of events pleased the old girl.


End file.
